Chapter Three #2
“I think that’s why I bury myself in work, so those feelings aren’t as acute. The smell of books, the feel of them, the sound of the pages turning brings me comfort.”
“I know exactly what you mean, on both counts.” He paused as he thought over his next words.
“I lost my wife years ago, and time now moves strangely. There are days when it goes up and down in the same period.” When Miss Pickwick nodded, he continued.
“I’ll wager your father loves her still,” he said quietly, for he knew what it felt like to not have a spouse in his life.
“Those feelings don’t evaporate. I think we just learn how to make room for them, so they don’t take over our lives. ”
“No doubt he does, but I wouldn’t mind if he chose to seek out a new companion. He needs that; we all do. Being alone takes a toll, I think.”
Did that mean she was on the hunt for a husband? Shaking his head slightly to clear the thoughts, Barr said, “He probably won’t until your future is settled. That’s what good fathers do.”
“Hmm.” Her lips turned downward in a frown. “I hadn’t thought of it like that, but then yesterday he impressed upon me that I should marry. As if I could go to a shop and pick out a decent man. I wish it were that simple.”
“Then perhaps you should choose an indecent man,” he quipped, as an odd sense of humor came over him.
“I beg your pardon?” Her confusion was both adorable and somehow lit fires in his blood.
“You said finding a decent man wasn’t simple. Perhaps locating an indecent one would be easier.”
“Ah.” Her smile was slow but addictive. What would those lips feel like against his… or better, wrapped around his engorged length? Good God, man, rein yourself in.
Then common sense came back to take control. Barr shrugged. “I apologize for the risqué comment.”
“It is no bother. I welcome a break from the ordinary, actually.” Amusement danced in the dark depths of her eyes. “I’m no stranger to scandal. I suppose I should mention that before this position begins. You might not wish to be associated with me after that.”
Now that was intriguing. “How so?”
She wandered to another bookshelf. “Before being a librarian, I was a governess. A failed one, since I was turned out both times for becoming intimately involved with my employers.” Another blush, but a bit more faint. “It doesn’t matter how those liaisons came about.”
“I see.” His chest was tight, not with worry, but from jealousy, of the men she’d been with. Then he berated himself, for he knew her not at all. “I suppose I can’t fault you. You are quite lovely.”
“Ha, such gammon.” She waved his comment away.
“Do stop, Your Grace. Looks have nothing to do with desire or passion. Such a connection can happen between two people regardless.” One of her dark eyebrows rose.
“Also, I take exception to society’s acceptance of men having trysts, but when a woman does it—unless she’s a widow—she is condemned by those same eyes. ”
From the moment they’d begun conversing, she’d proved herself quite intelligent.
“That is so true.” The elusive scent of her perfume teased his nose with floral notes and a hint of vanilla and something he couldn’t identify but compelled him to move closer.
“Oh, and by the by, I don’t wish for us to be formal while working on this project.
You may use my title—Scarborough—or call me Barrington, which is my Christian name, or even just Barr.
That’s what my friends call me when not using the title.
” What a long-winded explanation for a very pedestrian thing.
For a long time, Miss Pickwick stared at him, searched his face with her gaze for God only knew, but he hoped she found it within him. Finally, she nodded. “I rather like the name Barrington. One doesn’t hear that much. It makes you unique and memorable.”
He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Thank you.”
“I’m Catherine, or Cate, since only my father calls me the by full name.”
“It’s lovely.” Soon, he’d make a fool of himself by chasing that perfume in the air.
In the end, perhaps he wasn’t in control of his own life.
Perhaps it was fate that moved his feet, for he apparently was well on his way to losing his mind—at least temporarily—because he leaned toward her, put a crooked finger beneath her chin, tipped up her head, then gently pressed his lips to hers.
Surprise jumped into her eyes as she held his gaze.
His pulse hammered in his ears as he waited, stunned.
He hadn’t been with any woman let alone kissed one since his last tryst, which seemed an age ago.
Would she slap his face, and rightly so?
He eased back a few inches to see what she would do, she gave him a tiny nod, so with even more shock knocking about his brain, he moved his hand to cup her cheek and kissed her again, this time with more stick.
Tongues crashed and dueled. Silk slid against satin.
Her lips cradled his while he slowly moved over hers in exploration.
One of her hands came to rest on his chest, her fingers curling softly into his lapel.
And when she kissed him back, heat slipped into his bloodstream and interest shivered into his shaft.
That brought back pieces of his sanity, and he pulled away with a gasp, remembering who he was and why she was here. Tugging on the knot of his cravat, he said, “My apologies. I don’t know what came over me.”
A giggle escaped her, and the sound did nothing to relieve the sudden tightness in his groin.
Amusement twinkled in her eyes, along with a subtle darkening.
Had she felt that inexplicable pull too?
“Oh, I’ll wager I do. It happens to all of us.
” As Miss Pickwick scooted back and put a bit of distance between them, she touched her lips with a fingertip.
Was she assessing the skill of the kiss?
Remembering it? Did she wish the embrace had been longer?
Why the devil did he want to know?
“Your talent in kissing aside…” A heavy sigh followed. “Perhaps we should move to the purpose of my coming here before things grow wildly out of hand.”
“Right.” At least he had his answer. She thought he had talent.
That was good to know, and it buoyed his ego slightly.
Why the hell did I kiss her? And perhaps more to the point, why did that one kiss not satisfy him in the least?
“Let me just fetch the book.” Could she see his erection through his charcoal-colored breeches?
Damn, how embarrassing. One would think him a randy youth, but he couldn’t help it.
There was something about her he apparently couldn’t resist.
“I would appreciate it.” Once she seated herself on a low leather sofa with a high back, she glanced about the room.
“If you don’t mind, each day I intend to take a break from the translation by going through your books.
I’m always interested in seeing different collections in the hopes I’ll find a book that will send me down another rabbit hole of research. ”
“You are more than welcome.” Willing his body to settle, Barr moved to a small cabinet at the other side of the room.
Opening a slim drawer, he removed the volume in question, then closed the drawer.
“My father amassed quite the collection though he wasn’t genuinely fond of reading.
I think he merely liked collecting them. ”
“While there’s nothing wrong with that, I would rather delve into the pages and lose myself in the words.”
“Indeed.” Just when he thought he’d sorted himself, the moment he sat next to her on the sofa, and the warmth and scent of her reached out to him, he was in danger—again—of making a cake of himself.
“Regardless, here is the book. There are thin cotton gloves on the table over there if you’d rather make use of them. ”
And he placed the book in her hands with the distinct thought that it wasn’t just the Egyptian volume he was giving her.